Emma took her grandfather’s hand.
“Mommy, I was the one who asked Grandpa not to tell you. I was afraid you wouldn’t let me go to rehearsals anymore.”
I began to cry.
My father was crying too.
“Anna, I never wanted to frighten you. I just wanted you to hear your mother’s favorite melody on your birthday.”
I hugged him.
“Dad, you should have told me everything. Emma’s health is more important than any surprise.”
He nodded.
“I know. And you’re absolutely right.”
Two weeks later, Emma’s foot had completely healed.
On my birthday, my father invited us back to the same beachfront hotel.
But this time, there were no secrets.
The grand ballroom was filled with our relatives and friends.
Standing in the center of the stage was Emma, wearing a beautiful white dress and holding her little violin.
She looked at me and said:
